The Musical Musings of Michael Maltese

It is only appropriate that cartoon series which began their existence to plug Warner Bros.-owned songs should employ writers who showed abilities as lyricists.

Such was Mike Maltese, scribe of Merrie Melodies and Looney Tunes.

Someone like Greg Ehrbar or Daniel Goldmark will know exactly how this works, if they would care to comment. Maltese’s lyrics (ie. lines sung by characters in the cartoons he wrote) would be published by a Warners’-owned company, which collects royalties for whenever the song is used. Whether the Maltese estate receives any money now, I don’t know, but I suspect it’s treated as a work-for-hire, meaning he was paid a flat fee at the time of composition and that’s it.

Michael A. Maltese is listed in the ASCAP database as having composed the following; some of the titles are duplicates or a little vague:

A Hound For Trouble
At’sa Matter For You
Bugs Bunny Cues
Bugs Bunny Show Cues
Bugs Bunny Thanksgiving Diet
Bugs Bunny Valentine Cues
Bugs Bunny’s Third Movie: 1001 Rabbit Tales
Bugs Bunny’s 3rd Movie 1001 Rabbit Tales
Calypso Bunny
Daffy Cues
Daffy Duck’s Thanks For Giving Cues
Daffy Duck’s Rhapsody (with Warren Foster and Billy May)
Dog Gone South
Eight Ball Bunny Cues
Flower of Gower Gulch
Great American Chase Cues
How Bugs Bunny Won the West
I’m Glad That I’m Bugs Bunny (with Warren Foster and Billy May)
Kids WB Big Cartoonie Show Cues
Lazy Will
Little Beau Pepe Cues
Merrie Melodies Cues
(Michigan Rag, Return My Love)
Merrie Melodies Cues
(Gal From the Wild Prairie with Milt Franklyn)
Merrie Melodies Cues
(At’sa Matter For You, Southern Comfort)
Michigan Rag
One Froggie Evening Cues
Past Perfumance Cues
Porky Pig Cues
Rabbit Hood Cues
Ragtime Jazz (WB Network Promo) (with Hummie Mann)
Regimente
Return My Love
Ride of the Valkyries (with Patrick Cameron Nicholas)
Tannhauser (with Patrick Cameron Nicholas and John Eric Schmidt)
We Had No Place to Go

Two of these, “I’m Glad That I’m Bugs Bunny” and “Daffy Duck’s Rhapsody” are from Capitol records, not Warners cartoons.

Something like “Rabbit Hood Cues” might be confusing but, remember, any time a song is sung that Maltese wrote, he is credited with the lyrics, unless they’re the actual lyrics from a real song. In “Rabbit Hood Cues” case, the sheriff sings a goofy version of “London Bridge is Falling Down.” Maltese gets credit. The same as if he messes with original lyrics, such as when Bugs Bunny sang “Oh carrots are divine, you get a dozen for a dime, it’s magic!” (Rabbit Every Monday, 1951), though, to be honest, I don’t see this in the list. And it’s one of my favourites. (“They fry, a song begins, they roast and I hear violins, it’s magic!” Take that, Doris Day!).

Maltese had a wonderful ear for silly dialogue which he displayed in his cartoons at Warners and Hanna-Barbera.

A Hound For Trouble (released 1951) starred Charlie Dog who, toward the end, put on stereotypical Italian garb and sang the immortal “At’sa Matter For You.” Maltese even supplies a couple of voices in the cartoon.

At’sa matta, at’sa matta, hey!
At’sa matta for you?
You eat-a ma raviola
And ma pastafazoola, too.
I’m-a give-a cacciatori
And a pizza that’s good to chew.
At’sa matta, you no like me? Hey!
At’sa matta for you?

“Calypso Bunny” comes from 8 Ball Bunny (released 1950). It gets interrupted by Dave Barry as Humphrey Bogart from The Treasure of Sierra Madre. You know the cartoon. It’s where Bugs takes a penguin home to Antarctica, but the penguin is really from New Jersey. They stop on a Caribbean Island.

Bugs Bunny came to Martinique.
When he arrived he was pretty weak.
His knees looked like they would buckle in
His tribulations caused by a penguin.

Now he’s built a boat on which they both can leave.
They hope that fickle fate have nothing up her sleeve.
If he should accomplish this daring thing.
A miracle to Martinque Bugs did bring.


Past Perfumance (released 1955) featured Pepe Le Pew on a film set in Paris. He gets out four lines of “We Had No Place to Go” before the scene changes.

We had no place to go
So I took her to a show.
I don’t know what was on the screen
‘Cause I loved her on the mezzanine.

“Regimente” is heard in Little Beau Pepe (released 1952). Unfortunate, it’s a chorus of Mel Blancs in phoney French and the some of the lyrics are indecipherable to my tired old ears.

Le regimente aux ...ente
Of Foreign Legionaire.
L’avec ....aree, for Gai Paris
Oui, oui, le tout le guerre.

We get another little tune from the skunk on a mandolin that sounds like a guitar, music from “Vision of Salome” by Jens B. Lampe with lyrics by Maltese:

Sweet ‘eart, Pepe Le Pew loves you.
Sweet ‘eart, fortunate, lucky you.
Sweet ‘eart, wake up and you will find,
Pepe, he’s got you on his mind.

“Dog Gone South” (from the cartoon of the same name, released 1950) has the Southern colonel strumming his banjo and singing away. Charlie Dog talks over the line about the mint juleps and interrupts the song so we don’t get the full appreciation of Maltese’s songsmithing.

Oh, boll my weevil and corn my pone
You’ll never be lonely because you’re never alone.
When you’re way down South
I said “Way down South.”
....mint juleps
In the warm summer sun where the gals have tulips.
(song interrupted)

I won’t bother with the lyrics from What’s Opera, Doc and One Froggy Evening because I’m sure they’re elsewhere on the internet. But let’s give you “The Flower of Gower Gulch,” heard over the opening credits of Drip Along Daffy (released 1951). Maltese loved Western clichés; he made a whole series starring Quick Draw McGraw out of them at Hanna-Barbera.

She’s the flower of Gower Gulch.
A cowpuncher’s sweetheart true.
And her looks don’t amount to much
Because one of her eyes is blue.
She’s got skin just like prairie dog leather.
She cooks nothing but chuckwagon stew.
And her name is Minerva Ouch.
She’s the flower of Gower Gulch.

Gower Gulch was the corner of Gower and Sunset, originally the home to the Nestor Company in 1911, the first studio built in Hollywood for movie production. Cowboy extras would hang out there waiting for work, hence the name.

Maltese left Warners for Hanna-Barbera in November 1958. Characters in his cartoons there sang, too, such as the rock and roll rocking chair song in El Kabong, Jr. In El Kabong Was Wrong, Maltese penned these punny lyrics:

I’ll never forget the day I fell for Cactus Nell.
Sitting on a thumb tack made me tall in the saddle.
Oh, I won’t be at the roundup, Nelly, because I’m such a square.

There’s no ASCAP or BMI composer credit for Maltese for these cartoons, though. Hanna and Barbera grabbed a lot of song credits. I don’t think Barbera composed anything but he co-owned the company so he’s part of the studio’s music publishers and got a cut.

You could do no better almost any day than watch a bunch of cartoons he wrote and maybe sing along with them. It’s magic!

Bully For Bullets

Chuck Jones is the master of subtle expression at Warner Bros.

There are all kinds of examples, but here are some in Bully For Bugs. The bull gets Bugs’ rifle attached to his tail and when he pounds it on the ground, bullets come out of his horns. He thinks. He looks. He realises.



He chases Bugs and shoots at him until he runs out of bullets. No problem. He chows down on Acme Elephant Bullets (Explosive Heads). He gets ready to shoot again. But Jones and writer Mike Maltese have other ideas. Jones waits just long enough before he caps things with the horns drooping to a slide whistle.



The animators are Ken Harris, Ben Washam and Lloyd Vaughn. The short was released on August 8, 1953. The initial story work was done and the first jam session run-through was on September 5, 1951.

Whistling Doesn't Always Work

“If you need me, just whistle,” says a bulldog (Billy Bletcher) to Jerry after the mouse springs him from a dog catcher’s van. After Tom gets pummelled (and turned into an end table) by the bulldog when Jerry whistles for protection, the cat gets an idea. He puts paste on a gumball so when Jerry munches on it, he can’t whistle.

Jerry finally gets an idea after fruitlessly trying to communicate with the bulldog. A bubble. His face turns red, then purple.



Tom gets ready. Then the take.



Huge bubble, huge trapped whistle unleashed. Tom sees the end now, digging his own grave and indulging in some cliché gags.



But something is amiss.



In a Joe Barbera plot twist, the dog can’t help Jerry because he’s been recaptured.



The cartoon ends with Jerry whistling and chasing after the van, with Tom following as they head into the distance and the iris closes to end the cartoon.



Ken Muse, Ray Patterson, Irv Spence and Pete Burness are the credited animators. The cartoon is The Bodyguard from 1944. Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera reused some of the ideas in this short in Pixie and Dixie cartoons at their own studio.

A Goat, a Groundhog and a Grauer

When radio started in the early 1920s, you had a guy who would introduce the various acts, fiddle with some dials, read news from the paper, and maybe even sing or play an instrument. As radio expanded, his duties would expand, too. He would go on location for remote broadcasts, such as dance bands, interviews or special events.

Over time, duties became specialised, especially at the network level. But announcer Ben Grauer carried on being a jack of all trades, even when network television grew.

Here’s a fine profile of his career, to date, published in newspapers starting November 5, 1950. It gives you an idea of the many, many things he did in broadcasting. I wish there were more about the goat story.

Ben Grauer's Radio Career Yields Both Thrills, Chills
BY SAUL PETT
Associated Press Staff Writer
NEW YORK, Nov. 5—Ben Grauer's radio and television career is now 20 years old. But there were times when he thought he would never make it.
Broadcasting from a diving suit 70 feet under the Atlantic, he was almost throttled by the guide rope. Covering Jimmy Walker's "beer parade" in 1933 from a blimp, he narrowly missed stepping through an open door. During the Lindbergh kidnapping, he slept on the police fingerprint files and caught pleurisy.
But the hazards of being a radio-television reporter, announcer, narrator and master of ceremonies are not all physical.
Interviewing Lucius Boomer, famed hotel keeper, Ben called him "Bloomer." This proved unsettling, At the end of the show, when he was supposed to say, "This is Ben Grauer speaking," he said, Is this Ben Grauer speaking?
Horseplay in Studios
He survived 16 years of announcing for Walter Winchell. This is not to say that Ben didn't enjoy them but he does recall some harrowing moments. After an intense broadcast, he says, Winchell frequently relaxes by making faces at the announcer during the commercial. Once, Ben recalls, he was sprinkled with water. The early days of radio contained more horseplay in the studios. And Ben survived that, too.
Winding up a newscast, he was just getting to the stock market reports when a wit in a tiny studio began tickling him. Being on the air, he was powerless to resist. He was tickled and disrobed without missing a single market quotation.
Being a victim, he was destined to become a practical joker himself. Years ago, when Phil Spitalny headed the NBC stand-by orchestra, Ben suddenly rushed to a mike and announced that due to atmospheric conditions a show from Chicago could not be continued and that the audience would now hear some music. Grauer signalled Spitalny. Spitalny raised his baton and the orchestra played nothing but sour rotes. It was several hours before Spitalny learned all the mikes were dead.
Goat Beauty Contest
All this and more, Grauer managed to survive.
Today, at 42, this short, brown-eyed, ubiquitous bundle of energy and words is one of the busiest and best paid reporters and announcers in the business. He says he likes the work because "I think it's interesting and fairly varied." This is flagrant understatement.
In one week, you might hear or see Ben Grauer covering the United Nations, interviewing a puppet, introducing Eleanor Roosevelt or Arturo Toscanini, describing a golf match from a ladder on top of a bouncing jeep, narrating a solemn documentary or leading a game of charades.
He has broadcast from 11 different countries. He flew with the Berlin airlift. He was in Israel when Count Bernadotte was assassinated. He once flew all the way to Brazil for five minutes of an eclipse.
He has broadcast every presidential convention since 1940 and every major UN meeting since 1945. He has been master of ceremonies at a goat beauty contest.
Played in Silent Movies
He has interviewed groundhogs, and for a "Seeing Eye week" broadcast was blindfolded while walking through Manhattan streets led by a dog. In 1948, he was on TV for 16 consecutive hours reporting the election results. In 1934 he put the first survivor of the Morro Castle disaster on the air. The survivor had swum seven miles to shore. Grauer interviewed him in a telephone booth with the line hooked into the network.
Grauer was born in Staten Island and as a child played several roles in silent movies. He majored in English at City college and hoped for a literary career. That proved futile so in the fall of 1930 he went to NBC for a dramatic audition. Two hours later he came out with an announcer's job.
That began a bustling career which saw him connected with more than 40 regular major shows in 20 years.
He has announced for such diverse personalities as Henry Morgan, Eleanor Roosevelt, Toscanini, Babe Ruth, Bob Ripley, Joe Cook, Kay Kyser, Vaughn Monroe, Perry Como, Garry Moore, Floyd Gibbons, and Winchell.
"People often ask me," Grauer says," who talked faster, Gibbons or Winchell? I think Winchell did, and does, at least in the first minute.
His most satisfying experience, Grauer says, has been his coverage of the UN on video. It represents a cause about which he believes more and more people should be informed.
He's especially proud of a letter of praise he received from Warren Austin.
His biggest single thrill, he says, came in covering New York's reception for Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower in 1945.
"When the general landed at LaGuardia and the motorcade formed," he recalls, "we in the NBC mobile unit were second in line right behind Ike. Then a cop got his signals crossed and shoved us back to the end of procession.
"Going into Central park, we were still last. NBC called and said I would be on the air at 11:02, about eight minutes away. I complained I couldn't because I had nothing to describe but backs of cops. They said I would be on the air anyway. I was scared stiff, so we gambled. While the procession moved south through the park, we raced west, went down the other side of the park, through red lights and whistling cops, cut back across the lower end of the park."
Leads Parade
At about 11:01 Grauer's truck met the motorcade coming out of the park. At 11:02, he was on the air at the head of the procession, saying, "Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, as New York says hello to Ike Eisenhower. Now let's lead the parade down Fifth avenue."
He did, too.
Grauer is a bachelor, who is "still shopping around." His hobbies are producing plays off Broadway, collecting rare books and information about Mexican archeology.
That brings us to his most embarrassing moment. It was during a shortwave broadcast beamed to South America. He was being interviewed in Spanish about his many trips to Mexico.
After a few shaky answers, he began an apology for his lack of Spanish fluency.
"Estoy tmbarazado," he said and immediately was crowded off the air by the chatter of his excited interviewer.
Ben had intended to say, "I am embarrassed." Instead, he said, "I am pregnant."

Ben Gross of the New York Daily News marked Grauer’s career with some bullet points in the November 17, 1950 edition.

Grauer's 20 Years . . . Ben Grauer of NBC, at the age of 42, has just celebrated his 20th year on the air. Go over to NBC and ask "Just what does this guy do?" and they won't be able to give you a clear-cut answer. For the truth is, he has no classification at the network. He's a famous news and special events reporter and commentator—and yet he does not belong to the news department. He's also a sportscaster, but the sports department can't claim him. He's also a narrator of dramatic shows and documentaries, an emce and moderator of forums, both on radio and TV. Running over his two decades before the mikes and the cameras, Ben sums up some highlights of his career in this way:
Favorite Broadcast—"My reporting of General Eisenhower's triumphant return from Europe in 943. I covered his receptions in Washington, New York and Abilene, Kansas."
Most Taxing Job—"Giving the Truman-Dewey election returns in 1948 over NBC-TV. Worked 16 straight hours, from 8 P. M. Election Night to 12 Noon the following day."
Most Uncomfortable Broadcast—"Putting on the air a 16 piece orchestra from an airplane in flight, in 1933. We were so cramped for space that the tuba player sat in the men's room."
Favorite Fan Letter—"Dear Mr. Grauer: You talk too much. Mrs. A. C. Reisted, Depue, Ill. P.S. Don't bother to answer this letter. Just shut up!"

These days, unless you’re an old-time radio fan, you think of Grauer in Times Square counting down to the New Year. But, as you can see, he did more than that. He died at age 68 in 1977 but packed in a lot of broadcasts during his career.

Roller Skate Rockabye

Chilly Willy wheels a roller skate into place in his battle to get rid of a hungry bear and claim all the blue fin tuna on a ship for himself.



He succeeds. Look at the eye take on the bear! Tex Avery’s unit at Walter Lantz was a beacon of light in low-budget darkness.



Here’s how you do a swirl turn to become upright again.



The bear (played by Dal McKennon) rocks the dog to sleep.



The Legend of Rockabye Point is probably my favourite Lantz cartoon of the 1950s. Avery’s pace is quick, the story is well-constructed and the gags are good variations on the kind of stuff Avery did with writer Heck Allen at MGM. Here he has Mike Maltese, who once admitted he got miffed with Avery for not using his material.

Ray Abrams, Don Patterson and La Verne Harding are the animators of this 1955 short.

Claw Hands

Fingers are pointed like claws in the Ub Iwerks cartoon The Office Boy (1932).



Some gum stretching and snapping the break up the monotony of typing.



Instead of a carriage return bell, there’s a gong. The carriage goes up instead of back to the left. Now that’s comedy!



There are no credits on this Flip the Frog cartoon other than Iwerks, who supposedly drew this.